All the Hours in Between
by Ruby Casablanca
Summary: It takes Chloe Decker twenty-four hours to come to terms with the fact that her partner is the Devil. (Post 3x24)
1. 5 Hours After

5 Hours Later

 _It starts the same way each time._

 _Chloe is back there, in the gallery, surrounded by pristine white walls and floors, priceless sculptures in various states of dishabille standing about the space. In this dream, she is alone, her footsteps clacking against the marble, creating echoes that drown out everything except the sound of her own thundering pulse. It's unnerving, how void of color the place is, how cold it feels, how empty._

 _And then, out of nowhere, feathers start to fall. Powdery white feathers, soft as snow that fall from the sky, landing upon her head and shoulders like tiny clouds. They are unbearably soft to the touch, nearly dissolving as she goes to pluck them from the air. Strangely, they also burn, glowing with a faint light that cannot be contained. They are beautiful, and yet she cannot discern from where the feathers come._

 _Their descent does not stop, however. No, if anything, what starts as a sprinkling of feathers quickly turns into a barrage. The downpour is so heavy that it obscures the room, the sculptures and the staircase vanishing from sight. She can barely see two feet in front of her face, stumbling blind across the space to nothing but the sound of her beating heart._

 _From there, the vision turns to a nightmare._

 _The feathers turn crimson, splattered and saturated with red that she can only assume is blood. It sticks to her jacket, to her shoes, to her hair, weighing her down as if each one weighs a ton. The burning intensifies as the feathers amass, building upon her back like some grotesque set of wings._

 _It is just when the feathers threaten to drown her when she sees it. Sees them: a_ _pair of burning red eyes filled with nothing other than fire and rage that licks through her soul and sets her ablaze._

 _The feathers on her body ignite, and the Devil laughs._

"Chloe."

Her head turns toward the sound of her name, only to meet Ella's concerned gaze. Chloe lets out a relieved breath. She isn't in the gallery, she's in the precinct. The interrogation room at the precinct to be precise, and the forensic scientist is stood bent over the table, palms laid flat to carry her weight, as she examines her friend as she would evidence.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Chloe rasps, not even managing to convince herself with that one. "Yeah, everything's fine."

Thankfully, Ella chooses to take Chloe's answer at face value. They have more pressing matters to worry about after all.

"We need you to walk us through what happened one more time," Dan instructs from the seat next to Ella as gently as he can given the circumstances. Chloe can't blame him for being a little short-tempered, not while the man who murdered the woman he loves currently lies on a slab in the morgue, unable to be prosecuted for his crimes. Justice would not be had for Charlotte Richards, at least not in the way they had wanted.

Chloe swallows thickly, memories threatening to overwhelm her.

"I told you. We showed up to the address Pierce's guy gave us, only to realize it was a trap. Pierce wanted Lucifer dead for some reason, but I intervened. Pierce fired and I took the bullet; I was wearing my vest but the impact knocked me out. Next thing I knew, I was waking up on top of a helicopter pad. Then you called and heard the gunshots. By the time I got back down, Pierce was already dead."

"And the murder weapon? Did you happen to see it?"

 _Gnarled fingers reach down and yank on the dead man's chest, the curved blade releasing itself from rotting flesh with a morbid hiss. She does nothing to stop its removal, frozen and watching while it is deposited into the breast pocket of a designer jacket._

"No."

Dan's frown deepens. "And Lucifer?"

Her eyes dart up to meet her ex-husband's, panic rising in her throat as she repeats, "Lucifer?"

"Yeah. How does he fit into all this?" Dan continues, oblivious to Chloe's mental freak out. "When we were on the phone, you said you both made it out alive, but when police arrived at the scene, he was nowhere to be found."

"I...I don't know," Chloe stutters pathetically, her mind swimming. How could she possibly tell Dan what she saw? How could she possibly explain that Lucifer was... that he was...

 _Or maybe I do know,_ her own words echo in her mind, coming back to haunt her. _Maybe I have been avoiding the biggest truth this whole -_

"Hey, it's alright," Ella reaches over and grasps Chloe's hand in her own, giving a comforting squeeze. "I know this is hard. Your criminal mastermind ex-fiancé was murdered and you are the one who found the body, but you're the toughest cookie I know."

Chloe tries not to grimace. Leave it to Ella to make a girl feel better.

"I really..." Chloe shakes her head, the urge to pull at her hair overwhelming, as if it would rid her of all the bad memories. "I really don't know what happened. All I know is when I ran down from the helicopter pad, Lucifer was..."

"He was what, Chloe?" Dan presses, leaning across the table, impatient.

She has to close her eyes.

 _Lucifer, she calls as she descends the stairs by twos, body aching to reach her partner before it is too late._

 _Lucifer, she tries again, panicked now as she takes in the sight of Pierce's men broken and unconscious on the ground. She nearly slips on bloody feathers in her hurry, not even noticing how out of place they are, how they were missing mere moments before._

 _A relieved breath escapes her lips as she sees the silhouette of his suit bent over Pierce's body._

 _Wait...Pierce's body. Unmoving, unyielding, with an eerily familiar blade sticking from his solar plexus. Yet, she can barely register that Pierce is dead before the man in the suit is moving, standing at full height, and then turning to face her._

 _It's all real, she gasps, unable to wrap her head around it._

 _Heaven and hell, angels and demons, it is all real. And that terrifies her more than she is willing to admit. And maybe...maybe her mind clings to the possibility that this is some cruel joke, some twisted act he has put on to justify his outrageous and unrelenting metaphors. But then he speaks in that all too familiar voice, a single word enough to shatter what remains of her sanity._

 _Detective?_

 _He takes one step forward, and she takes an equal step back. The look of confusion on his face is heartbreakingly familiar._

 _If her entire world was not imploding, Chloe would notice the concern in his eyes, the vulnerability and the hurt that lies within those fiery irises. But the accent she loves coming from the creature that stands before her only makes things that much more devastating._

 _It's all real, she repeats like a broken record._

Her eyes snap open. Even now, all these hours later, the memory gives her shivers. She wonders if there will ever come a time when the memory doesn't haunt her, when that face won't haunt her.

But Dan doesn't know that she is being haunted by literal demons. Dan doesn't know - he _can't_ know - what she knows. He is still waiting across the table, watching her silent spell as if she has lost her mind. And perhaps she has. Perhaps she has finally seen one impossible thing too many, yet still, to say to Dan that the Devil did it is nothing short of insanity.

She couldn't lie, and she wouldn't, because that creature with the scarred red skin and the furious crimson eyes...that wasn't her Lucifer. That was someone else, something else.

Chloe looks Dan straight in the eye and says, "He was gone."


	2. 10 Hours After

10 Hours Later

By the time Chloe unlocks the front door to her house and stumbles inside, exhaustion has already sunk deep into her bones.

The flickering green light coming from the microwave blinks half past midnight, and she groans. She had stayed at the precinct far longer than she expected to, caught up in paperwork associated with the fallout of finding out that your boss was really a crime lord. To say the entire LAPD is shaken to the core is an understatement, and seeing as though she is a key witness to Pierce's murder, there is so much more she still has to do. But that is something to think about after a long, hot shower and some sleep.

If sleep would come at all without bringing crimson eyes with it.

Her phone had died sometime around her second round of questioning, the device coming back to life as soon as she hooks it up to the charger. Immediately, the screen lights up with notifications, assaulting her weary eyes. She has five missed calls from Linda and two voicemails. Instead of checking them, she simply shuts her phone back off. It's nothing that can't wait until tomorrow, and she has had her fill of chaos for the day.

A groan from the other side of the room draws Chloe's attention, her senses immediately going on high alert. Her hand automatically goes to the gun at her hip, and though she feels as though she is about to drop, another course of adrenaline rushes through her veins. She runs through a mental checklist, trying to recall any and every person granted access to her home in the last twenty-four hours.

Eyes darting down the hall, Chloe sees Trixie's door standing wide open, no one in bed.

"Trixie, baby, you up?" her voice echoes as she turns to face the living space.

 _Please, please don't be Lucifer,_ Chloe chants like a mantra. Out of all the times he chooses to ignore boundaries, this could not be one of them.

The intruder is not Lucifer, she discovers, but another otherworldly entity, one far more unexpected.

There, in all her glory, lies Maze sprawled out upon the sofa looking like she has been beaten within an inch of her life. If not for the shallow rise and fall of Maze's chest, Chloe would think that the woman is dead. Someone else has tended to her. The numerous cuts and scrapes along her arms and face are bandaged; the only gruesome injuries on display are the rainbow of bruises growing across every inch of her skin.

Chloe's first instinct is to rush to the woman and call 911. But then she remembers the crimson eyes, what they represent, and... _holy shit_ , _Maze is a demon._

A demon who is currently being coddled by a child.

In a panic, Chloe moves with every intention of pulling Trixie away from the demon in order to protect her. Trixie is too close to danger, her small frame sat on the floor, tiny hands grasping onto Maze's with a gentle yet firm grip. Despite the hurt Maze had caused Trixie not a few days earlier, and the young girl is all too ready to put bygones aside to make sure her friend is okay. Chloe would be proud if not so entirely freaked out.

 _Am I even okay with my daughter being attached to a demon?_ Chloe asks herself during what had to be her tenth mental breakdown of the hour.

It has been a nightmarish day, and yet the nightmare just refuses to end.

"She's been asleep since she got here," Trixie says with her eyes still trained on Maze, worry evident in those wide brown irises. "Who did this to her Mommy?"

Trixie sounds so upset that it is hard for Chloe to remain uncompassionate.

"I don't know Monkey."

Chloe kneels behind her daughter and scoops her up into a hug. Trixie buries her face into Chloe's neck while Chloe surveys the scene up close.

She reminds herself that Trixie does not know the truth, and like her father, cannot know. Chloe needs to protect Trixie from the dangers of the world, but since when did the line between friend and foe become so blurred? Despite all they'd been through, to Trixie, Maze is still her friend. But Maze is something otherworldly and dangerous, something that represents infinite terror and savagery.

But...hasn't Maze always been those things? Ever since she strode into Chloe's life in head to toe black leather, Maze had been nothing but a grouchy, irritable, loose canon who abided by zero social norms. Never once was she easy, but never once until recently did her roommate give Chloe chance to doubt her loyalty, especially to her daughter. This is the same woman who made Trixie glitter daggers out of pink cardboard and taught her how to bounty hunt! The same woman who cuddled up with Trixie on Halloween during a scary movie. The same woman who pretends to hate children but so warmly accepts Trixie's hugs and other forms of affection.

Or...so at least Chloe thought. She is not sure what she thinks now. Her head is still pounding out of her skull, the ebbing wave of adrenaline leaving her even more exhausted than before.

"Hey, why don't you go back to bed and I'll watch over Maze for a bit," Chloe suggests, knowing that Trixie shouldn't be up this late, especially not on a school night.

Trixie's bottom lip quivers in protest, but Chloe beats her daughter to the punch.

"Maze will still be here when you wake up."

It isn't exactly a comforting thought. Chloe would very much like Maze gone, but Trixie would not stand for it, and so Maze stays. For now. Until Chloe could come up with a better plan that she could explain to her daughter without being labeled the bad guy.

"And what about you, Mommy?"

"I'll be fine," Chloe assures her daughter. Sleep is just wishful thinking at this point. She is foolish for believing she could ever get any in the first place. But Trixie doesn't need to know that. "Now, off to bed."

Trixie begrudgingly obeys, tiny feet scuffling across the hardwood as they make their way to the bedroom. On the way in, Chloe notices the sign still taped on her door: _No boys allowed except for Lucifer and Daddy._ Chloe's fingers itch to rip it down. It had been funny at the time, so funny that Chloe remembers snorting milk out her nose at breakfast when Dan noticed he had come in second to her newfound, eccentric partner. Chloe doesn't know why Trixie is so amused by Lucifer, and for the first time, Chloe finds herself wishing the little girl isn't.

She wishes they all aren't so attached to Lucifer. It would make this whole situation so much easier.

"Mommy, is Maze going to be okay?"

Trixie has already pulled the sheets up to her neck, peering up from the bed with those large puppy dog eyes that normally get her whatever she wants. It hurts Chloe's heart that she cannot give her daughter the assurance she wants this time.

"You know Maze, she - " Chloe has to cut herself off, trying to find the right words. The safest words. "She's really tough. Nothing can take her down."

Trixie appears to mull this over, the worry lines smoothing over her forehead. Chloe lets out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"I love you," Trixie whispers into the fabric of Chloe's shirt, pulling her down into a tight hug. Chloe does not resist, burying her nose in her daughter's tangled brown hair, finding comfort in the scent of home. It drowns out the phantom smell of burning feathers, at least for a moment.

"I love you too Monkey."

Chloe gets up and flicks the lights off, bathing the room in darkness. She lingers in the doorway for a moment, content to simply watch Trixie sleep, safe and sound. The sight is a reprieve in the storm that rages around her. For the first time all night, Chloe doesn't feel like she's drowning, and it gives her the strength she needs to carry on.

Returning to the living room, Chloe is unsurprised to find that Maze has not moved a single muscle. Besides the steady rise and fall of her chest, Maze may as well be a corpse. The irony is not lost on Chloe that this is, perhaps, the most well behaved her roommate has ever been.

Her roommate...who is a demon...from Hell...which is apparently a real place and not the metaphoric creation of a mentally unstable nightclub owner.

Right.

She walks over to the kitchen and scoops some grounds into the coffee maker, turning it on and patiently waiting for it to squeeze out a cup of bitter black draught.

Chloe has a feeling she's going to need a lot more of it to survive until morning.


	3. 18 Hours After

18 Hours Later

 _It starts differently this time._

 _Chloe's not in the gallery, but on her front step, the outside air heavy and oppressive, buzzing with insect and telephone wires. They make her ears ring, and she can't hear anything other than her labored breaths pushing their way out of her mouth._

 _When she opens the door, her house looks the same: all the furniture is there, breakfast half-eaten on the counter, Trixie's arts and crafts spread out on the kitchen table. It looks lived-in and inviting and warm. And there are feathers falling, floating in the air as if someone had burst her pillows open. Except these feathers are too large to be used as down, too soft and too radiant to be wasted on furniture. They still burn her skin as they glance past her on their way down, coating the hardwood in a carpet of white._

 _Innocent laughter fills the air, a familiar sound that douses Chloe in a tidal wave of fear. Trixie bounds down the hall the next moment, shrieking with joy as she jumps to catch the feathers before they touch the ground as if they are snowflakes._

 _She wants to scream, 'Trixie, no baby! Run away! You're gonna get hurt!' but her throat is swollen shut, like the feathers have clogged her throat._

 _Trixie plays in the feathers as they burn her pale skin raw, turning her into something horrific - something red and scarred._

 _Then Trixie looks up, and it's not her eyes Chloe meets, but the Devil's._

The sound of beeping startles Chloe back into reality. She gains her bearings enough to recognize the smell of smoke coming from the oven, and pieces two and two together.

She curses as she rushes to pull the burnt sandwiches out, waving a towel around to dissipate the smoke. Her hands fumble for the latch to the window, hoping the fresh air will please the alarm and get it to shut up. She has a bad enough migraine as it is, and seven cups of coffee - eight, she corrects as she starts a fresh pot - has only succeeded in giving her jitters. The lack of sleep could have something to do with it as well, but that is besides the point.

When the smoke clears and the beeping subsides, Chloe examines her work. Only blackened slabs remain of what were supposed to be Hawaiian sandwiches.

 _So much for breakfast..._

"Mommy..." Trixie mumbles, wiping her eyes as she scoots onto a barstool. "Is the house on fire?"

Chloe's breath catches and she has to take a moment to appreciate how rosy and unmarked her daughter's skin is. There isn't a single thing wrong with her, not a scratch on her body.

 _It was only a dream,_ she tells herself.

"Nope, I was just making some breakfast," Chloe answers, tossing the ruined meal into the trash. Trixie watches the whole scene rather confusedly, giving Chloe a funny look.

"It's okay, I'm not hungry."

"You're going to eat something young lady," Chloe insists, going over to the pantry and surveying the options. The only thing remotely breakfast-like available that does not require any cooking skills on Chloe's part is a box of the sugary cereal Maze loves. Chloe cringes. The stuff is terrible - nothing but processed sweetener sure to send Trixie into a sugar high - but there are no other options. She sighs and brings the box over, depositing the box in front of her daughter.

Trixie's eyebrows shoot up as she gives her mother an even more surprised look. "Mommy, are you alright? You never let me eat this."

"Think of it as your reward for being such a good girl."

"But I haven't done anything," Trixie points out. Chloe's smile falters, and she wonders why today of all days her daughter is trying to argue getting fed sweets when all she does every other day is finesse her way into getting chocolate cake. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm just fine Monkey, I promise," Chloe assures her daughter, hoping this time she sounds more convincing. She pets back pieces of Trixie's wild bed head before reaching up in the cabinet to get a bowl. She also fetches the milk and a spoon to complete the set. "Now eat your breakfast and go get ready for school."

Miraculously, Trixie obeys and pours herself a hefty bowl of the rainbow colored cereal. Chloe tries not to cringe at all the empty calories and rotten teeth that would result. But she isn't even half way into the bowl when a large groan from the sofa has both of them jumping out of their seats.

Trixie bounds over to the sofa like a bullet, shouting, "Maze!"

"Hey tiny human," Maze manages a pained smile, wincing as the little girl bowls into her at full force. Chloe knows that wounds like those, even with whatever supernatural healing Maze possesses, have to hurt.

"What happened? Why are you hurt so bad?"

Trixie's eyes go wide and glassy, tears only moments away as she presses Maze for answers. Chloe stays quiet, hanging back to keep her distance without ever taking an eye off of Trixie and where Maze's hands were in relation. Any hint of movement towards her blades and ...

Her blades! That's why the one used to murder Pierce looked so familiar. It was the same one of two that Maze kept on her person at all times. But...that didn't make any sense. If Maze never parts with the blades, then why would Pierce have one in the first place?

"A bad man tried to hurt my friend, so I had to hurt him back," Maze rasps, a generalized version of what had to be a bigger story.

Chloe fills in the gaps pretty easily. The bad man, all the bumps and bruises, Pierce having one of her blades, his concealed violent tendencies. There confirms Chloe's theory about the missed calls from Linda as well. Maze must have gone to check up on the therapist first before crashing on Chloe's couch for the night.

"Did you stop him?"

Maze looks to Chloe for an answer, one that she happily provides for her daughter's peace of mind.

"Yes, Monkey. The bad man can't hurt Maze or anyone ever again."

"Good," Trixie says resolutely, nodding her head.

Silence washes over them, and Chloe finds herself becoming exceedingly uncomfortable with the closeness of the two. Despite the lack of apologies, all bad blood seems to have washed away. Trixie is playing with the ends of Maze's hair, and Maze is looking at Trixie fondly, almost like she has missed her. It is too much.

"Hey, Trix, why don't you finish getting ready for school?"

Trixie nods her head, though reluctant to let Maze go without a final look-over, and bounds out of the room back into her own. Chloe lets out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. As much as she tells herself that Maze is hurt, that Maze is her friend, that Maze is not a threat, letting a demon that close to her daughter is hard. So hard. Thankfully, Maze does not seem to notice the tension in Chloe's every muscle, nor the distance she keeps by sitting down on the opposite couch. Or if she does notice, Maze says nothing about it.

Instead she fixes Chloe with those dark, mischievous eyes.

"You got Pierce."

Chloe nods, the whole situation surreal. She is talking to a _demon_ , of all things...a demon who happens to be her roommate. Former roommate? What does one classify someone who burns all their bridges in a fit of rage, storms out without saying why, disappears for weeks, and then returns out of the blue covered in wounds? Put like that, the whole scenario sounds eerily familiar to someone else...

"Is he dead?"

Chloe shakes herself from her thoughts, returning her focus to the demon. "Yes."

"Good." Maze sounds just as Trixie had: satisfied with the outcome.

"Not good," Chloe amends, the gravity of the situation settling back in. "Now there is no one to prosecute for the murder of Charlotte Richards."

"What?" Maze pulls herself up into a sitting position, clearly surprised. "Charlotte's dead?"

It is then Chloe remembers that Maze had gone AWOL since the bachelorette - now guessing it was most likely because Pierce had her holed up and tortured somewhere - and was not around for the latest turn of events.

"Pierce shot her two days ago in cold blood," Chloe affirms, and as much as Maze professes not to like the woman, she seems affected. "Now that he's dead, we don't have a case. We have his fall guy, and witnesses who will attest to attempting to cover it all up, but without Pierce there is no one to charge."

"Bastard," Maze hisses, her eyes narrowing, and for a second Chloe thinks she glimpses the demon beneath her skin. "I will go to Hell and drag his miserable soul back up here myself."

Chloe does not doubt that Maze means what she says, especially when said with such venom.

"Pierce was stabbed by one of your blades," Chloe continues, feeling the need to let Maze know this particular detail. After all, those blades are really special to her. At their mention, Chloe watches Maze pat down her torso, knowing exactly where they should be and scowling once she notices that one is gone. Still, there is one more detail that is niggling at the back of Chloe's mind, one terrible notion that she has not been able to shake. "I think...I think Lucifer was the one who did it."

"Are you sure?" Maze asks, looking skeptical though much more attentive. There is something else behind those dark eyes now, not just a desire to know but a fear of knowing.

"When I walked into the room, I saw him leaning over the body. They were the only ones in there, and I saw...I saw h-his - "

Chloe is unable to get the words out without feeling her skull pound and her mouth go numb. Without seeing those _eyes_.

"You saw his Devil face," Maze finishes, able to connect the dots. She sounds like she's been in this position before, that she's seen reactions like this before, and Chloe wonders just how many people have seen what she's seen. "You know."

Maze sounds defensive and apprehensive, and that makes her prickly. Maze always gets this way when she is uncomfortable, when she is expecting the worst. And really, who can blame her? Just a few hours ago, Chloe was ready to kick Maze to the wind, lock the door, and never look back.

"Yeah, I know, and it's... _a lot_ to process," Chloe admits, running a hand across her forehead while she tries to explain herself. "I'm doing the best I can, but I-I just - "

"I get it, Decker," Maze sighs, casting Chloe a sideways glare. The unspoken 'shut up' is clear. "So, why does Lucifer's face change suddenly make him the murderer?"

"Like I said, he was the only other conscious person, and when he turned around he looked - " Chloe got choked up just thinking about the furious crimson eyes, the scarred face. " - h-his eyes were so...they were so angry a-and vengeful, and it felt like I was in the room with evil - "

"He isn't _evil._ He punishes _evil_ ," Maze snaps rather forcefully, and Chloe is abruptly reminded of Maze's true nature. The demon then cocks her head, and continues to mock, "But hey, what does it matter what you think? You're only the one person he cares about more than anything in this miserable world."

Chloe is stunned into silence, unsure of what to think of this new revelation. Out of all the outcomes the morning could bring, she did not expect to be berated by a demon. Out of all the secrets Maze could divulge, her status as Lucifer's favorite person is most unexpected, and yet, not surprising at all. How could it be a surprise when he has all but admitted it himself?

 _Softer memories flutter through Chloe's mind now, ones of laughter and camaraderie. Gentle moments spent swaying in strong arms to the sound of eighties music while golden tin foil confetti fell from the ceiling. He did that all for her..._

"What are you doing?"

Chloe looks down to see Maze wrestling her own body, wincing with every move as she tries to become mobile.

"Angels aren't allowed to kill humans. It's celestial rule number one," Maze explains, grunting as she puts her feet on the floor. "If Lucifer really did kill Pierce, then I need to get to him before he does any more damage."

"Are you serious Maze?" Chloe balks as she stands to counter Maze's movements, encouraging the demon to lay back down. "You are in no shape to go anywhere."

Suddenly, this whole situation seems a lot less ridiculous. Because here she is, trying to keep her impulsive roommate from trying to do something dangerous, just like she has a thousand times over. It's so painfully normal that she fights the simultaneous urge to laugh and cry. The only thing that changes this time is that Maze folds pretty easily, her weakened muscles giving out at the first sign of resistance.

"Someone has to go save his ass, and judging by how _wonderfully_ the reveal went over, you sure as hell aren't going to do it," Maze grumbles, and though she hides it behind a mask of annoyance, she looks worried.

"Lucifer..." Chloe struggles over his name. "I'm sure he can handle himself."

Maze barks out a mirthless laugh, tossing her head back against the armrest as she does so. "Damn Decker, you really are stupid."

"Excuse me?"

"You're his partner, and yet you don't know the first thing about him," Maze accuses, her tone harsh but Chloe can't help but feel like it's deserved. "Just _think_ , for once in your life. He has his Devil face back. That means he did something big to get it, and now he's probably in a darker place than he was when he killed his brother."

"He _what_?"

"It's not important," Maze waves the subject away, and Chloe knows better than to bring it back up. At least, not now. "All that matters is making sure he doesn't self destruct like last time."

"What happened last time?"

"You tell me. You were the one who was there when he decided to use himself as a shield to protect that miserable human."

 _Her memories take her back to the shootout in a glass office, the sniper on the balcony taking shots precariously close to Lucifer's perfectly-tailored suit and yet, he kept spurring the man on, hurling insults and taunts as if adding fire to a flame, daring the sniper to do his worst. She used to think Lucifer was just taking things too far, per usual. That he was just putting on a good show. But now..._

"You don't think he'd try to..." Chloe can't finish the thought. As terrifying as those crimson eyes are, the notion of Lucifer - _her Lucifer_ \- taking his life is unbearable.

"I don't know," Maze shrugs, as completely in the dark as Chloe. There was once a time Maze knew Lucifer like the back of her hand. Now, not so much. "He has one of my blades, and without you around it's the only thing that can kill him. It wouldn't do it in the way you think; just send him back to Hell the long way round. But I think he wants to suffer. I think he believes he needs to be punished."

"What do you mean, without me around?"

"You make him _bleed_ ," Maze draws the word out longer than necessary, giving Chloe shivers. "You make him mortal."

Chloe's head swims with information, new details coming in faster than she can process, and she has already been woefully behind ever since she caught a glimpse of that horrifying face. She shuts everything else out and reconciles Maze's words with what she knows. She knows that Lucifer says he's immortal, yet he bled when she shot him. But he looked so surprised, in genuine shock...as if he had never felt pain before. And his words...

 _If it's any consolation to your pride, Detective, it appears you make me vulnerable as well._

Chloe groans, rubbing at her temples. What makes her so special? Isn't it bad enough that the Devil has wormed his way into her heart, but now she has to be his version of an Achille's heel?...whatever that entails!

"Why?" is the only question she finds herself capable to ask. _Why is it always me?_

Maze sizes Chloe up for a second, as if debating saying something, before pursing her lips in a thin line. "Not my place to tell."

"Mommy, are you ready to go?"

Chloe looks up to find Trixie standing by the door, her backpack slung over her shoulders, a curious look on her face as she takes in the two adults caught in the middle of an argument. Chloe knows that Trixie isn't dumb. Trixie knows that something is going on with the adults in her life - mainly Chloe - but, as terrible as she feels about the secrets, Chloe wants to keep Trixie out of things for as long as possible. Or at least until things start making sense again, which at this rate could take years.

"Yeah, Monkey, let's go."

She stands up, brushes the imaginary feather dust off her knees, and grabs her keys. Thankfully the tremors in her hands have died down enough that driving won't be an issue. Normally, she could call Dan when she isn't feeling well, but Dan needs time to grieve, and Chloe needs every excuse she can get to put distance between her daughter, herself, and the supernatural.

"Bye Maze! I'll see you later! Feel better!" Trixie shouts over her shoulder, which only encourages Chloe to push her out the door faster.

This time, Maze notices.

"Don't leave him like this Decker!" Maze shouts to Chloe's backside as she's halfway out the door. "There's more at stake than just your feelings!"

Chloe slams the door behind her, walking as fast as she can to her police cruiser.

Maybe she is running away. Maybe she is chasing after normality with a passion. Maybe she is acting the coward. But as much as she wants to care and act as if everything is okay, she can't. Nothing is okay. Nothing makes sense and everything hurts and she can't even tell if it's anger she's feeling or absolute heartbreak. Right now, she doesn't even feel comfortable in her own home, and how can she be expected to come to terms with her new reality when she is never given a moment's reprieve from couch-crashing demons, burning feathers, and bottomless crimson eyes?

So she pulls a page out of Lucifer's book.

She runs.


	4. 23 Hours After

23 Hours Later

The screen in front of Chloe is blank, the same search engine open and blinking, waiting for a command that never comes.

She should be entering the mountain of write-ups and bookings into the system. She should be tracking all her current cases. She should be doing something productive, but instead, Chloe keeps her gaze focused dead ahead as she has for the past countless hours, as if she can see through the screen and into the fuzzy pixelated data stream that lies beneath. No matter how hard she stares, her finger hovering over the mouse, she can't bring herself to actually type anything in.

 _This is ridiculous,_ she berates herself for the millionth time. _It isn't like there are support groups for people who find out their partners are the Devil._

Out of habit, her eyes shift over her monitor to the chair across the desk. She half expects to find her partner sitting there in one of those expensive Prada suits, hands folded on top of bended knees, head cocked to the side, infuriating grin plastered on that equally infuriating face. But the chair is hauntingly empty, and instead of the relief she should feel at the visual, all Chloe feels is a pang of sadness.

Sadness sticks to her like a shadow, unable to leave her alone and Chloe doesn't know why. She should be relieved that she is doing something normal, that she is at work, doing her job, like a normal person. Yet, the tears wouldn't stop the entire car ride from dropping Trixie off at school to the precinct, so much so that she came into work late so that no one would see the red layered on top of her black-rimmed eyes. She has half a mind to wear her sunglasses, but that would only make her more suspicious and draw more unwanted attention. Chloe just feels so unbelievably upset, like someone has taken a sledgehammer to her heart, and the more she tries to pretend that she's alright, the more it hurts.

Behind her, the precinct buzzes with life, oblivious to Chloe's pain. Not that she can feel it. Everything moves around her in a blur - a noiseless blur of color and motion. People stop by her desk to drop off files, the amount of cases piling up on her desk growing to an unreasonable number. A few try to chat, but she doesn't hear a word, and they leave soon after they realize her focus is solely dedicated to her blank screen.

They must think she is grieving. They must think she is in shock. After all, the man she was going to marry turned out to be a criminal mastermind, a _dead_ criminal mastermind. It is too much for most people to process, but not her. No, that is the least of Chloe's worries. Her coworkers with their pitying stares and forced small talk, whispering when they think she can't see them, they don't know shit, and Chloe resents them for it.

The commotion only grows by the minute, and Chloe can't stand it. Can't she just be left alone for two minutes? Is that too much to ask?

But then she looks up and really pays attention to what's going on around her - to the number of officers running up and down the stairs, pairing off into groups, some hauling large boxes, others hauling in people. Chloe takes a panorama of the room, and when she's done, Dan is standing in front of her. From the looks of things, has called her name at least once.

Chloe stares at him, dumbfounded.

"What's going on?"

"You haven't heard?" Dan asks, genuinely surprised. "The case against Pierce has been reopened. Turns out that there is more than one way to pursue it, so we're going after his estate. If Pierce can't answer for what he did, then his crime empire will."

"Dan...that's..." Chloe struggles to find the right words, completely overwhelmed by such good news. After all that's happened these past few days, Chloe has been staring to believe that good things are a thing of the past. "I can't believe it."

Chloe pulls Dan into a tight hug, and she feels safe in her ex-husband's arms. There are no sparks, none of the chemistry that first drew them together, but a comfort and familiarity that brings her much-needed peace.

"Neither can I," he admits when they pull away, unable to keep the wide grin off his face, and it's so good to see him hopeful for a change. "Hey, I gotta go get these warrants approved, but I'll catch you up later?"

"Yeah, talk later."

Dan is half way down the hall when he turns around and calls over his shoulder, "Oh, and thank Lucifer for me when you see him!"

All the blood runs from Chloe's face, and she swivels around to catch Dan before he slips from view.

"Wait, what?"

Chloe hopes she doesn't sound as faint as she does to her own ears. She hopes she doesn't look as fear-stricken as she feels. Her heart is hammering just thinking about Lucifer being in the precinct without her, walking around, talking to people, being among them. She doesn't like it, yet she wishes he is here with her now because he is the only one she wants to go to when she feels run down, and damn if this isn't one frustratingly exhausting back and forth.

"He didn't tell you?" Dan now looks even more confused that before, returning to Chloe's side.

"Tell me what?"

"He's the reason all this is possible. He came by the precinct earlier, before you got here, to give his statement and - "

"What did he say?"

"That after he pulled you out of the line of fire he went back to confront Pierce, only to have the guy attack him. Lucifer defended himself and wound up delivering the final blow. By the time you got to the scene, Lucifer had gone back to find you, but you were already gone. You two must've just missed each other," Dan replies, giving an abbreviated version of events as Chloe knows Lucifer would never tell a story that bland or short (he does _love_ his theatrics). It could easily be the truth and yet Chloe can't help but feel as though there is more to it than that. Lucifer always tells the truth - no matter how horrifyingly impossible it may be - but it is always _his_ truth.

Dan cocks his head, staring curiously at Chloe. "Shouldn't you know all this? I mean, the guy is your partner."

"We haven't really been in touch since the incident," Chloe replies brusquely, not liking feeling as though she is being put on the spot, and she ruffles her shoulders. Dan notices, and it does nothing to paint a less conspicuous picture. "I've been busy with paperwork...and Trixie..."

"Uh huh..." Dan doesn't look convinced but lets it go. "Anyway, Lucifer didn't come alone. He had Pierce's guy with him; you know, the one with the 'sister' who set us up. I thought he'd given us the slip after Ella and I left to get you, but apparently Lucifer was able to find him using some of his favors. You should've seen it Chloe. This guy walked in asking to turn himself in and started babbling classified intel about the Sinnerman network. He hasn't stopped since."

Chloe doesn't have to ask what Dan means by 'babbling' to understand. She has seen the aftermath of an interrogation with Lucifer before: suspects huddled up in balls on the ground, ready to say anything and everything to make the imaginary torment stop, as if they have seen a ghost.

Not a ghost, Chloe now knows, but the Devil.

"You don't think that is kind of... _strange_?" she asks, unable to tell Dan just how twisted Lucifer's methods are. Chloe finds herself actually feeling badly for this criminal, because if he has seen those eyes, so full of rage and hellfire, then she knows just how much damage they can do.

"Listen, whatever Lucifer did, it got us justice for Charlotte. That's all that matters."

 _Suddenly she is back on the helicopter pad, lying on the ground, cradled in a pair of strong arms. Never has she felt so safe, and yet, there are two hands pulling at her bulletproof vest. When she looks up, the sunlight pours down upon her, blinding her to everything except the figure coming into view: Lucifer. From this angle, the light frames his dark hair like a halo, cutting against the profile of his face. He looks angelic. Her savior._

 _The relief in his voice is immense, and he drinks in the sight of her._

 _You're safe. That's all that matters._

Her heart breaks again and her eyes water.

 _Damn it,_ she curses, trying to hold it back. _Not here, not now!_

"Hey, Chloe, are you okay?" Dan asks, the millionth person to ask her that since everything happened. "I know I'm in no place to judge, but you've been acting _off_ ever since the shootout. I'm worried."

The hand on her shoulder doesn't feel sinister. There are no hidden intentions or secret identities lying beneath Dan's skin, yet his hands aren't the ones Chloe wants to comfort her, and she hates herself for it, but she hates Lucifer more.

Where does Lucifer get off, acting like he's some kind of hero, saving the case at the last second? He doesn't get to do those kinds of things! He doesn't get to ruin her life then try to save it. He isn't supposed to care about them. He isn't supposed to get involved, or attached. He can't...because he's the Devil, and the Devil is...

But who exactly is the Devil?

Because although she never really believed until now, Chloe has always been taught that the Devil is bad. The Devil is evil. But Lucifer...Lucifer is many annoying, irritating, sinful things, but he is also the most openly honest, selfless, and compassionate person she knows. He's the kind of man who looks after Trixie even though he claims she annoys him. He's the kind of man who puts on elaborate acts of kindness, who plays the harmony to her Heart and Soul, who gifts sentimental jewelry, who gives her the prom she's always dreamed of. He's the kind of man who pulls her out of the line of fire only to go back in and fight for her, who takes bullets for her, who fights God for her.

And that...that is too much for one human to bear.

"No, no I'm not," Chloe admits, and it feels like a weight off her chest. "But I'm going to figure it out. Right now."

Dan looks more confused than ever, standing idly by as Chloe gathers up her things. She must be a sight: unwashed hair in knots pulled atop her head, face pale with dark circles under her eyes, bag haphazardly slung over her shoulder. She must sound crazier than a bag of cats too. But Dan lets her go without a fuss, and Chloe tears out of the precinct as a woman on a mission.

She needs to stop thinking that she's crazy. She needs to stop seeing him everywhere. She needs to stop seeing those eyes every time she closes her own. She needs sleep and peace of mind. She needs her life back. She needs normal. And if walking through the fire is the way to survive then, God be damned, she will do it.

She and Lucifer are going to settle things, for better or worse, once and for all.


	5. 24 Hours After

24 Hours Later

Lux is empty when Chloe walks in.

It is too early for patrons to start their nightly debauchery, and the bartenders and bouncers are nowhere to be seen. Chloe half expects to find Maze waiting there for her, arms crossed over her chest in silent indignation. But Chloe is alone, and the normally active club is hauntingly quiet, the elevator on the back wall exuding an ominous presence. She creeps over to it slowly, acutely aware of every step she makes.

When Chloe presses the button and the doors slide open to reveal the golden interior, she half expects the car to burst into flame or drop her straight to Hell. She looks for something, anything inside to notify her that she is on her way to see the Devil. But her eyes spot nothing she has not already seen before. Everything is the same, and that makes Chloe even more nervous.

The elevator crawls at a snail's pace, dinging with each floor it passes. Chloe curses Lucifer's luxurious taste; of course he would choose to inhabit the penthouse of all places - the topmost floor of the building. It is like he wants her to suffer in this tiny claustrophobic box, and it's not like she hasn't before. There have been many elevator rides spent in limbo, but this one...this one takes the cake.

The doors open and Chloe is suddenly brimming with the urge to run away. She wants to hit the down button and retreat because until this very second, she has not weighed the impact of what she is doing.

Chloe Decker is about to confront the Devil. In his own home. Without backup or an escape plan.

God help her.

But since when has she ever needed to be saved from Lucifer? This extremely opulent apartment is the safest place Chloe knows. She has run there in countless times of need and associates it with the one person she trusts more than anything.

Used to trust. Still trusts. Desperately wants to trust.

Her head pounds.

 _Why must everything be so confusing?_

Chloe only has a few seconds to jump out of the elevator before it closes. She catches a shaky breath and makes the plunge, completely and utterly terrified once the doors shut and leave her alone in the Devil's abode. Of course, she could always call the elevator back, but Lucifer is there - she can feel his presence like some kind of magnet drawn to her own - and he has heard her. He has to have heard her, if not the sound of her heeled boots hitting the floor then her rapid breathing.

This is such unfamiliar territory, even though everything looks exactly the same as it was yesterday. The baby grand still shines as the focal point of the living area. The bar still runs along the side, even though it looks as if there are a few more bottles than usual missing. The glass wall ahead still gives the best view of Los Angeles that she has ever seen.

And there are feathers.

The same feathers from her nightmares - pure white and speckled with red. They do not carpet the floor, but there are enough to make their appearance suspicious, as if someone has scattered them as one would rose petals. Up close, they do not glow. Instead, they look dull, and the red is actually many different shades, ranging from rust to sanguine.

Chloe steps closer and her heel crunches on shattered glass. It's hidden under the feathers, but still very much present and in large quantities. Her head swivels back up to the bar and connects the two together.

 _That solves the mystery of missing bottles._

In the reflection of the glass, Chloe sees him. She doesn't know how she missed him before, but he's there.

Lucifer's presence is foreboding, tall frame bent over the balcony, his back to her. She stares for what feels like hours, waiting for him to move, but he never does. It's like he's a statue.

He looks like himself, and if Chloe tries hard enough, she can pretend that the other Lucifer does not exist. But that will do neither of them any good, not when the unspoken thing between them is strained and fraying by the second, the enormity of their reality crushing in on all sides. Or maybe that's just her. Maybe Chloe is the only one left drowning in a sea of uncertainty. Lucifer seems to be doing just fine, unbothered as he stoically watches the horizon.

Then the statue moves, and it becomes apparent that Lucifer is not fine at all.

Everything about him is rumpled - from his hair to his shirt to his posture. Chloe thought she was tired, but Lucifer looks as though he is carrying the weight of the world upon his sagging shoulders, like it takes all his remaining energy to hold the glass of whiskey in his hand. When he looks at her, everything Chloe wants to say flies out the window. Her courage dies, her mouth goes dry, and her lips won't work. All those prepared speeches and mental rants hold no weight when faced with the Devil himself.

They stand in silence as he assesses her with mercifully brown eyes, trying to parse out if she is real or just another vision. Satisfied, he doesn't greet her, doesn't say a word, merely bypasses her completely and ducks behind the bar to fill his whiskey which isn't even empty.

"It is only fitting that things end as they began: just the two of us," he says unceremoniously, placing his glass down on the counter.

His attention is not even on her, focused solely on draining the bottle. He pours more than necessary for the early hour, but clearly he has been drinking all day. The scent of alcohol permeates from his skin along with smoke and something uncomfortably metallic.

"What do you mean, _end_?"

Chloe doesn't like the connotation of the word, and Lucifer is acting far too casual for someone who just had his biggest secret exposed. In fact, he's not acting like himself at all, far too reserved and not nearly larger-than-life enough.

 _Maybe_ , she thinks, _that was all an act_. _Maybe the Devil isn't like that at all_.

He doesn't answer her. Lucifer drains his glass and pours another, then another after that. She wonders how he can drink like that and not get alcohol poisoning. Then again, he always drinks like this and she has never seen him anything more than slightly buzzed. Even multiple bottles in, Lucifer doesn't look drunk. He just looks...miserable.

"Lucifer...you're scaring me."

"Good! Maybe now you'll finally understand!"

The rage comes out of nowhere, catching Chloe unaware.

His voice is so loud it rings in Chloe's ears and vibrates through her sternum like the base in Lux. He's so angry, angrier than she has ever seen him before, filled with so much hatred and he has nowhere to channel it except her. It makes her feel small, like an insect in comparison. She shies away from his touch but he snatches her wrist before she can dart to the elevator. His grip hurts, rougher than he's ever been with her before, and forces her fingers around a handle of something small and curved.

Maze's blade.

They are standing toe to toe now, invading each other's space. Their hands are intertwined, and if anyone walked in, they would think they were interrupting a lover's embrace. Except there was nothing romantic about this. Lucifer's larger hands are keeping hers in place over the knife he's brought to his chest - the only thing that can kill him on a good day. With her here, anything could kill him, but he still chooses this.

And he chooses her to be his deliverance.

Chloe lets out a stream of curses and protests. She won't do this. He can't make her do this.

"It's what I deserve! I did the unspeakable, and now must be punished!" he roars over her with such conviction that it makes Chloe jump. She tries to yank her arm away but his grip is tight, his strength so much more than that of a mortal man. The blade is digging into him now, a thin trickle of blood spreading just below his breast bone and Chloe knows she can't keep this fight up much longer. "Come now, Detective. I know you want to. You've seen my face, what I truly am. So come on! Do it!"

His eyes...his manic eyes are flashing, consuming the dark brown irises with that haunting crimson - the same eyes that have been plaguing Chloe ever since he turned around in that gallery. They pin her to the spot. They strike the fear of God - _not God, the Devil_ \- into her. And some primal part of her is tempted to drive the blade deep into his sternum and rid herself of this waking nightmare.

Her heart seizes but she forces herself to keep breathing. She forces herself not to cry, not to grovel, not to beg. She forces herself to hold it together long enough to look past the rage and the fire to see what really lies beneath: fear.

The Devil is afraid, and he is afraid of her.

Finally, Chloe understands.

"What you truly are..."

She reaches up and rests her free hand upon Lucifer's cheek. His skin is burning - though that has more to do with the literal hellfire licking across his jawline - but she keeps her palm flush against his stubble, holding him in place. Her other hand shifts forward on the blade, sharp edge biting into her palm, and rests it against his heart, the organ thundering in his chest much faster than usual.

She remembers his confession, the latest in a litany. She remembers the naked honesty in his expression as he took her in.

 _Detective...Chloe...I am the Devil._

 _No you're not, she'd said gently, still confused as to how the man in front of her could not see just how wonderful he really is. Not to me._

And then again, in the alleyway outside the gallery, right before everything went to Hell.

 _No more Devil talk._ _You may think that's what you are, but I don't see you that way_.

All this time, she has been demonizing him, turning the person she knows and cares for into some preconceived notion of what the Devil should be. And perhaps he does have another face, one with eyes dark enough and fearsome enough to make the strongest man grovel for forgiveness, but that isn't _his_ face. That isn't the man standing in front of her, so tormented with guilt and self loathing that it is eating him alive.

Lucifer has been isolated his whole life, and now what he fears more than everything is being rejected by the one person he cares about more than anything. And so he's pushing her away in the hopes that if he hurts her first, scares her off first, then he won't have to suffer that kind of loss again. He's running away, as usual.

Well, not this time.

"You are _not_ evil. You are _not_ a monster," she says and she means it. She means it now more than ever. The only trouble is getting Lucifer to believe it. "You are a good man. The best that I know and...and I'm sorry that I couldn't see that sooner. I'm so sorry, Lucifer."

Crimson irises die abruptly, dark brown seeping back in, shining and glassy to hold back tears. He looks frustrated, squeezing his eyes shut, as if he doesn't want to hear what she has to say.

"Pierce was never going to stop. Do you hear me? Even if you got us out, he was never going to stop hunting us. If you didn't stop him, he could have hurt so many more people we care about. Linda? Amenadiel? Ella? Trixie? Everyone is safe because of you," Chloe rambles, unable to stop the onslaught of words because as long as she keeps talking Lucifer stops shoving that blade further into his chest and just the feel of the metal shifting under her fingers is enough to make her tremble. "And me. I'm alive. So don't you _dare_ , for _one second_ , regret choosing to save my life."

That seems to do the trick.

Finally, _finally_ , his grip loosens and Chloe prizes Maze's blade from his fingers. She tosses the infernal thing across the room. It skitters across the floor, vanishing under some piece of furniture or forgotten corner where hopefully no one ever finds it again. Maze can yell at her some other time. Right now that dagger can go right back to Hell.

It's like the spell is broken. Lucifer's dark eyes are blinking slowly, so wide and confused.

"Detective...?" he asks slowly, innocently, in a voice too broken to possibly come from him.

Then Lucifer is stumbling, and Chloe has to catch him before he falls to his knees. His body is like dead weight against hers as she fights to steady him.

"You're hurt," Chloe says rather stupidly, because of course he is hurt. Lucifer's body language screams that he is in pain and yet, there is no visible injury to be seen.

"Nothing I can't handle," Lucifer dismisses before another grimace dances across his face.

"Please, let me help."

 _"Detective."_

His voice is like a whisper, a kind of desperation Chloe is not used to straining through his tone, and Chloe instantly knows that whatever is wrong, it is not anything human. It is something that will overwhelm her. It is something that she may not be ready for. And still, in excruciating physical and emotional pain, Lucifer is trying to protect her from it.

Chloe is so frustrated at him she could cry. Frustrated and terrified because what could there possibly be left for her to see? What secrets remain that would ruin her more than she already is?

She holds Lucifer's gaze, unwavering and and unwilling, until finally he is the one to break. He bows his head low and averts his gaze at the same moment he stretches his shoulders and reveals the source of the feathers.

"Wh-what...?"

Chloe doesn't have the words to comprehend what she is seeing.

Wings.

A pair of angel wings whose span takes up nearly half the room.

She takes a step back just so she can get a better look. They are beautiful, breathtakingly so, perhaps the most beautiful things she has ever seen in her life. But they are also the most grotesque, horrific sights. Blindingly white feathers are splattered in red, torn and shredded at the ends, some even sporting holes as if something has punched straight through them. They appear half-healed, as though trying to mend but not growing back just right. Mangled.

 _How did this happen?_ Chloe thinks, and she puts a hand over her mouth to stop the cry that's bubbling there.

Upon closer investigation, she notices that the holes are not just holes, but tiny symmetrical punctures. There are dozens of them at random, and then it clicks.

All the feathers at the gallery. All the men lying unconscious. All the casings she took to Ella for analysis.

"Did Pierce...?"

She doesn't even have to finish before the look on Lucifer's face tells her everything she needs to know.

"I thought you were dead. I - " Lucifer cuts himself off, swallowing thickly. There's that emotion in his eye again, the same one from the helicopter pad, and it makes Chloe's heart stutter in her chest. "I couldn't let him hurt you. Not again."

In so many words, Lucifer confirms her suspicions. He used his body as a shield and then flew her on broken wings to the helicopter pad.

The revelation is a startling one. The selflessness alone is enough to floor her.

Her hands rise against her will, hovering in the air mere inches from the damaged wings, and though she does not touch, Lucifer still flinches. Chloe backs away, giving him space, but unlike last time they engaged in this specific dance, Lucifer does not grab her wrist and tell her no. He does not do anything other than watch her, closely. So closely she feels as though she is being studied.

Chloe lifts her hand again, and there is no flinch. She inches slowly towards him, giving Lucifer every chance to back away, but he remains rooted in place.

Tips of her fingers brush down the arch of hollow bone and Lucifer shivers. The feathers are soft. So, so soft, just like in her nightmares. But that is all they are: soft as a cloud and thick as a pillow. Even the damaged edges have not grown rough, though the frayed larger ones look more like streamers than feathers. They glow, faintly, a characteristic that intensifies under her touch.

"They don't burn..." she mumbles, not meaning to say so out loud. Lucifer hears nonetheless and fixes her with a curious look, as if questioning why she would think something so ridiculous. Now is not the time to bring up the nightmares.

She comes across something hard and cold lodged in between the feathers, too small to be a knot and too firm to be natural.

"Lucifer," she gasps and pulls away, her fingers returning wet and sticky with blood. "You still have the bullets..."

"Yes, well, without you around, Detective, their removal is a bit difficult," he spins his excuse, sounding far too nonchalant for Chloe's liking. She has his blood on her hand and he can't even muster a bit more gravity? "And now, with you here, my wings are making it quite clear the little bastards are still in there. _Dear Dad_ this hurts worse than the first time you shot me!"

Lucifer doubles over, and takes her with him, both of them stumbling towards the bar. Chloe props him on a stool before anything else happens and they both end up with broken bones - or, in Lucifer's case, _more_ broken bones.

Despite all this, Chloe's mind is still racing.

"But the blade..."

She didn't understand. If Maze's dagger is powerful enough to kill celestial beings, then it has to be strong enough to make a few minor incisions. Lucifer only lowers his gaze, shifting his attention out the window, uncomfortable.

"To be completely honest, I wasn't all that focused on doing any mending. More the opposite, really."

At least Lucifer has the decency to look ashamed about the situation. At least he knows now that his bout of suicidal rage is nothing to be proud of.

Chloe sucks in a deep breath and shoves all of her conflicting feelings of anger and grief aside to focus on the problem at hand. Lucifer is bleeding. Lucifer is in pain. Lucifer needs her help.

"Take off your shirt."

Lucifer's eyebrows nearly shoot off his forehead. "I beg your pardon?"

Chloe can't blame him; she's not really sure what she's doing either. She's flying by the seat of her pants, just as she has been for the past day now, and trying not to think too hard about what is going on. Right now, all she knows is that Lucifer has bullets in his wings that need to come out before they cause even more damage, and though she may not be in any way qualified to do this, she will not have another failure weighing on her conscience.

"I said, take off your shirt," she repeats in the same emotionless tone and fixes him with an assessing look. "Unless you need me to do it for you."

Lucifer does not say anything this time. His fingers obediently find the buttons on his rumpled shirt, pulling the expensive garment apart until it comes down his arms and off his body entirely. Chloe does not let herself get distracted with the view, stalking off to get the proper supplies.

"Okay, we're going to need warm water, soap, some towels, and do you have tweezers?"

Again, Lucifer does not say a word. He leads her silently to the bathroom where he watches her rummage through his drawers, collecting the necessary tools. His expression is a puzzled one, as if he cannot fathom why Chloe is still there, why she is going to such lengths after all he has put her through. And honestly, Chloe does not know why herself. All she knows is that this is where she needs to be.

Prepared as she'll ever be, Chloe walks out of the bathroom and sits down unceremoniously upon the bed with her legs crossed on top of the black silk sheets, her back up against the headboard. Lucifer follows and stands at the edge of the bed, staring at her in wonder.

"And to think, this was all I needed to do to get you in bed."

His leer is less convincing than usual, but is reminiscent of the Lucifer Chloe cares so deeply for, and she cannot be bothered to correct his bad behavior.

She pats the bed encouragingly, scooting back so that Lucifer could lie on his stomach, his head lying comfortably in her lap. Each movement he makes is careful, and she appreciates the precaution. She thinks that his touch would be unwelcome given the seismic rift between them, but that is the furthest from the truth. Their position is beyond intimate, crossing over so many of their invisible lines, but it gives her the best access to his wings, their lengths spilling across the king sized bed down to the floor. She will have to lean pretty far to get the most axillary feathers, but it will be a small price to pay compared to what Lucifer is about to endure.

There are no pain killers, no anesthetics, only the bit of rubbing alcohol she managed to find in the bathroom as an antiseptic, and even that will burn. Unease rolls through Chloe's stomach, unsure if this is the right thing to do.

"This is going to hurt."

"Is that a promise?" he teases weakly, and Chloe's heart strains from the familiarity of it. For a moment, she thinks everything is going to be okay. However, this is no time for jokes, and the last thing Chloe wants to do is cause Lucifer more pain. He seems to sense her hesitation, tweezers poised in midair, frozen, and he grasps gently at her free wrist. "I can handle the pain, Detective. I trust you."

It is the most vulnerable he has ever been, and Chloe feels overwhelmingly humbled to have so much power over Lucifer. He is handing himself over to her and it is...it is almost too much.

Chloe gets a handle on her emotions long enough to ground herself in the moment, steeling herself to focus on the task at hand. The only way they are both going to get through this is if Chloe sets her own feelings aside and bites the bullet. Quite literally.

Silent tears streak down her cheeks, her heart breaking each time she rips one of the damned bullets out. She knows it's for the best. She knows that it has to be done so Lucifer can heal. But his muffled sobs are heartbreaking. He staves them off for as long as he can, but finally gives in and buries his face into her abdomen and screams. Each one sets a new crack in her already broken heart.

 _Who is the monster now?_ she thinks as she inflicts this kind of twisted torture. Then she turns her wrath onto God. _Why me?_ _Haven't we both already suffered enough?_

Thirty-three bullets later and the torment is over.

A sigh of relief passes through her lips, her weary arms finally allowed rest. The tweezers fall to the floor amidst the mess of extracted metal, bloodied and spent, just like her hands. The white towels are now permanently stained red, and Chloe shoves them on the floor as well, not wanting to look at any more blood for as long as she lived.

Lucifer is passed out, his body limp except for where he clutches at the fabric of her shirt, twisting it in a vice grip. His eyeliner is in smudges from where his eyes have teared up, and his forehead is creased in pensive lines. Those will smooth over, Chloe knows, running her fingers gently over his brow. The skin is damp with sweat, and she can't help but push his hair back to cool him off.

Soon enough, Lucifer's breathing evens out and Chloe knows he's asleep while she remains wide awake and trapped in his bed. Not that she has any intention of moving anytime soon. It is addictive to run her fingers through his hair. Without all the product, the dark locks are starting to curl over his forehead. Like this - eyes closed, lips parted, face lax with sleep - he looks angelic. Chloe knows better than to voice anything of the sort; his newly restored divinity is still a sore spot, if her scrambled memory serves.

Her hands move to his wings, smoothing over the wrinkled feathers. Even with her humanizing presence, Lucifer is a fast healer - the bullet holes already starting to close properly this time. The healing does nothing to fix the damaged feathers, however; no amount of heavenly power enough to regrow angel wings. Chloe wonders, rather sadly, if Lucifer's tattered primaries would ever heal or if he would remain grounded for the rest of his life. She doubts he would care one way or another.

She brushes over his shoulder blades, knuckles lightly ghosting over the junction where the bone met feather. The last time she laid eyes on this part of his anatomy, there had been two grisly scars shaped like crescent moons. He cut them off once. Would he do it again? Just the thought is horrific. Why would anyone ever want to destroy something so intrinsic to their being? Then again, what does she know in the grand scheme of things? What right does she have to tell Lucifer what to do with his God-given gifts? All she knows is that she does not want to see him in such pain ever again. She does not want to _cause_ him such pain ever again.

 _All you will ever do is cause him pain,_ she reminds herself, bringing everything back to reality. She makes him bleed. She makes him mortal. And that makes her want to run. The only thing that keeps her there - besides Lucifer's vice grip and deceptively heavy frame - is the knowledge that her leaving would hurt him more than the bullets.

Perhaps he is a masochist. Perhaps he is insane. Because any rational person, when faced with their own mortality, would push the offending agent away.

Not Lucifer.

Lucifer runs to her, chooses her, wants to be with her, no matter the personal cost. He's suffered for her, killed for her, endured unspeakable things for her. And she only knows little pieces collected within the last few hours. The whole story might break her - for the hundredth time or more (honestly she's lost count) - but she wants to hear it. She wants to know it all.

That can wait until the morning. Chloe has waited years to understand her partner. One more night won't hurt.

So, Chloe cants her head back against the headboard, the pillows just out of reach but she can't be bothered to get them without disturbing Lucifer. She decides she's comfortable enough, her partner's need for sleep outweighing her need for comfort. Besides, Chloe's eyes are already starting to become heavy, exhaustion creeping up on her as she remembers all the cups of coffee she's had to drink to remain awake for two days straight.

She falls asleep moments later, her hands still gently buried in Lucifer's hair.

* * *

 **A/N** : I just wanted to thank everyone for following/favoriting/reviewing this story. All your words and support are truly overwhelming in the best way possible, as I did not expect this much love towards yet another post 3x24 fic. This is my first dabble into the Lucifer fandom (I binged all 3 seasons in greedy gulps over the span of 6 days) and hopefully it is not my last. Just like everyone else, I look forward to Season 4 and am so glad this wonderful show and these beloved characters get to finish out their story on Netflix.

Anyway, there will be one more chapter after this to wrap things up. I hope you all enjoy, and thank you again, from the bottom of my heart.


	6. 36 Hours After

36 Hours After

For the first time since the shootout, Chloe wakes gently.

Not screaming from nightmares of red eyes, not in tears from the burn of phantom feathers. Gently.

To the first rays of early-morning light peeking through the curtains and Lucifer snoring softly in her lap.

He has not moved from where Chloe placed him: head in her lap, arms wrapped loosely around her waist - a heavy but comfortable weight as he dozes. He looks so peaceful like this, unburdened. Chloe cannot help but card her fingers through his curling hair, musing it further. She likes it this way, she thinks. It's softer without pounds of product keeping it in place.

On instinct, Lucifer presses into her touch, letting out a pleased sound that Chloe can only compare to a purr. Chloe bites her lip to keep from laughing. He must not be aware of what he's doing; he'd be mortified if he did. But, after the night they both had, he deserves to enjoy this. Lucifer is so responsive, though. With every touch, he buries his face further into Chloe's abdomen and sighs.

Briefly, she wonders when was the last time he had been held like this. Chloe knows Lucifer has a revolving door of beautiful women in and out of his bed, but when was the last time he let someone be with him like this? Maybe he never has. Intimacy for the Devil...that would require so much trust - someone knowing more of him than what he allows people to gaze upon the surface.

Just last night, Lucifer expected Chloe to kill him. She knows she is not the first to see his face. How many people has he risked to trust only for them to cut him down? An eternity alone...the thought makes her heart ache.

Chloe is lost in thought for so long that when she finally looks back down, Lucifer is watching her, dazed.

"You're here," he rasps, his voice still coated with sleep.

"Yeah," Chloe whispers, her throat too choked up to manage much else because the look of absolute wonder on Lucifer's face is enough to suck the air right out of her lungs.

"Am I dreaming?"

"No," Chloe replies, and his eyes flutter shut as he processes this. Chloe watches as all his defenses ripple, as he brings them down one by one, knowing he is safe and this is real. Lucifer appears to have no intention of moving, still Chloe cannot help but ask, "Do you want me to go?"

"Stay. Please," Lucifer insists, one hand darting out from the nest of blankets to gently wrap around her wrist. Chloe chooses to ignore the edge of desperation for both their sakes.

Lucifer strokes the skin on the inside of her wrist, just over her pulse, absentmindedly. Chloe knows what he is thinking; she's thought it herself a dozen times in the past day. _She is here, she is alive._ Perhaps the same need is why Chloe has been so keen to keep her hands on Lucifer. She needs to remind herself that _he is here, he is alive_.

They lie in silence for a few more moments before the need to speak becomes overbearing.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I just had three dozen bullets ripped out of me," he replies dryly, more of his signature sass bleeding through, but there is little heat to it.

Chloe watches with rapt attention as Lucifer sits up and flexes his shoulder blades, wincing as the wings pop out. They already look better - the holes closing into pinpricks, the bloodied spots all but unnoticeable. However, the primaries are still worse for wear, resembling far too much like ribbons for any functional flying. But Lucifer looks pleased as he assess the remaining damage, stretching the sore joints. He's not in pain, or if he is, he's good at hiding it. Then again, Lucifer is good at hiding many things, and Chloe can't help but flinch at the thought.

Lucifer interprets her flinch completely differently. He immediately looks chastened, folding his wings back into...wherever they go when they disappear. "I apologize, Detective. That was rather careless of me."

"No...just... _that_ is going to take some getting used to," Chloe manages, still staring at the empty space where the wings just were. That part, at least, is true. Having to rethink how she sees the world is going to be a long and arduous process, Lucifer's place in it most of all. Despite the past day from hell, there is still that tiny part of her that was holding on the hope of it all being a bad dream. Now, in the literal light of day, there is no denying anything. But she does not want him to regret telling her. Not when she does not have any regrets herself. "Thank you for being honest."

Lucifer shifts and takes Chloe's hands into his own, gently, tentatively, as if he can't quite believe he's allowed. Chloe can't believe she hasn't snatched them away. But his skin is soft and smooth and perfect, and she wonders, briefly, how much of that is him and how much is illusion. How much of him is this, and how much is the red-eyed monster?

It is brown eyes that meet hers when he swears, "I have never, and will never lie to you."

The intensity Chloe finds lights a different kind of fire, one that sends frissons of heat down where their fingertips are intertwined to the base of her spine. She does not mind this fire. In fact, she relishes it.

"I know," Chloe says, truth sinking into her bones. Lucifer has always been, if nothing else, the most honest man she has ever known. That, she has no cause to doubt. "I should have believed you when you told me."

"Do not blame yourself for not wanting to believe," Lucifer insists, a wry smile full of self-loathing covering his face. "Not many people are eager to accept that they have come face-to-face with the Devil himself."

"I was terrified at first," Chloe admits, more than a bit ashamed at the response it elicits from Lucifer. He pulls away, his expression morphing into one of incredible self-hatred. It becomes clear: he thinks that she is rejecting him. The distance between them is excruciating, and she scrambles to clarify, "Not only _of_ you, but _for_ you.

This seems to baffle Lucifer. He stares at Chloe as if she has grown a second head, unable to understand why she would be concerned. Her heart breaks for him all over again. Has anyone ever cared about him at all?

"I won't lie to you either, Lucifer. Who you are...it was a lot to come to terms with. I didn't _want_ to believe. But when Maze told me you had the dagger...what you might do with it...I panicked. Despite all the other craziness happening, the thought of you in pain was unbearable. What made it worse was knowing it was because of me."

And this is all her fault, isn't it? Charlotte's death, Lucifer's exposure, what happened to Maze - all of it wouldn't have happened if Pierce hadn't been so obsessed with her. It is her fault for bringing that man into their lives, for leading him on, for almost marrying him. And now...now Pierce is dead and Chloe still manages to find ways to hurt Lucifer.

"You have caused me nothing but unbridled joy the likes of which I have not experienced in a _very_ long time," Lucifer counters, taking Chloe's hands in his own once more and running his thumbs over the tiny scrapes on her knuckles. His expression is grave, and in that moment, he looks exactly all the thousands of years old he claims to be. "For that, I would take all the pain in the world ten fold."

Then, he places his lips to the same spot he's been stroking, and Chloe loses her breath all over again. She has watched him use similar moves and dozens more on unsuspecting women throughout their partnership, but never like this. She has never seen him this vulnerable, this open, not even last night when he was bleeding and broken.

And that reminds her...

"Maze told me...she told me I make you bleed..."

"Mazikeen needs to learn when to shut her mouth," Lucifer snaps, temper flaring against his control. It is terrifying how easily he can change, and Chloe marks it as a strength of her wits that she does not flinch from the flames. Lucifer quickly reins himself in, closing those fiery eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Tell me the truth, Lucifer," Chloe requests, her voice calm even though she is still shaking on the inside. "I can handle it."

Something in her plea must convince him, because Lucifer relents.

"You are a Miracle, Chloe Decker. Touched by my Father. Your mother spent many long years without children, so He sent my brother, Amenadiel, to bless her, and nine months later you came along," Lucifer huffs a laugh, a hand reaching to trace fingers along the edge of her jaw, as if he cannot help himself. "Miracles and fallen angels...well...the laws of Heaven and Earth tend to bend around us. Anyone else and nothing can touch me, but my Father's Grace - _your Grace_ \- will always weaken me. Hence why I can bleed...why you were able to shoot me."

Chloe reflexively reaches for the bullet necklace lying against her clavicle, undeniable proof of what should be impossible. She remembers Lucifer's surprise when the bullet pierced his skin, the genuine shock of pain that sent him stumbling to his knees. She used to think he was crazy. Sometimes she still does, especially when he throws around words like 'miracle.'

Chloe doesn't feel like much of a miracle. 'Miracle' sounds important, like a superhero or a savior, not a divorced single mother who drowns herself in her job. She thinks Joan of Arc, not the woman who couldn't save Charlotte. She thinks purity, but there is still Lucifer's blood under her fingernails and residue from firing her gun. In comparison, she feels like she doesn't quite measure up.

But Lucifer...Lucifer looks at her as if she is something precious, and that causes her brain to lose any sense of doubt.

"For a very long time I was convinced He put you in my path on purpose, that this was nothing other than another manipulation," Lucifer admits, a pained look crossing over his face. Hesitation still lingers as he continues, "But I was wrong about that, wasn't I? This is real."

"This is real," she murmurs - their foreheads pressed together, noses just barely brushing. "This is real."

She says it over and over again, as many times as Lucifer needs to believe it.

Her heart is beating so fast, Chloe fears that it may burst from her chest. She is not sure what she feels, only that it is overwhelming and that she never wants to leave the warmth of Lucifer's arms. For this one moment, everything is how it is supposed to be. The turmoil of the last few days fades away, and it is suddenly so easy to tilt her chin up and soothe years' worth of longing with a kiss.

Of course, because this is the first moment of peace Chloe has felt in the past week, her phone decides to ruin it.

She groans and drops her head to Lucifer's shoulder. It is far too early for anyone else to be awake? Who possibly needed something before sun-up? Still, the phone keeps going, and going, and going...

"Aren't you going to answer it?" Lucifer asks, polite enough but clearly annoyed by the intrusion.

The caller, despite being ignored, is not taking the hint. Chloe sighs, gets up, and walks over to the bar. Naturally, the phone has stopped ringing by the time she gets to it. The light is flashing that she also has missed a few texts - all from the same person.

"It's Dan," Chloe announces as she opens the messages, her voice carrying across the penthouse so that Lucifer can hear. "They're bringing in the last of the Sinnerman evidence this morning. Thanks to you, Charlotte's case is going to be a big one. He wants to know if I can help...if _we_ can help."

The _we_ feels right, like something missing has slotted back into place.

Chloe looks up and Lucifer is standing in front of her, signature smirk on his face as he extends Chloe her jacket. Somehow he has gotten changed, and even after a night from hell, looks nearly perfect in a three-piece suit.

"Come on, Detective. We have work to do."

It suddenly doesn't matter where the man ends and the monster starts. Because her partner, - the person smiling at her like she is the most important thing in the world - is both. And she loves that person, faults, quirks, fiery tendencies and all.

Their problems are far from solved, their worries far from over, but there will be plenty of time for long conversations. She'll tell him later, she thinks, when the dust settles and their wounds aren't quite so fresh. She'll tell him when the adrenaline's gone, the case is won, and there is nothing left between them except a late night, the lights of the city, and all the hours in between.

But not now.

They have work to do.

* * *

 **A/N : **Sorry it took me so long to wrap this up. I had a completely different version of this chapter written but I couldn't make it work and so I finally made myself scrap it and start over. But I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter, as promised :) Thank you all for the amazing response! I am truly humbled and blown away. Hopefully there is more Lucifer fanfic in my future. Now, hurry up Season 4!


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